Digital primer

They then flew the first fence together.
'F-o-r-r-ard!' screamed Jack in the air, as he saw the hounds packing well
together, and racing with a breast-high scent.
'F-o-r-rard!' screamed his lordship, who was a sort of echo to his
huntsman, just as Jack Spraggon was echo to his lordship.
'He's away for Gunnersby Craigs,' observed Jack, pointing that way, for
they were a good ten miles off.
'Hope so,' replied his lordship, for whom the distance could never be too
great, provided the pace corresponded.
'F-o-o-r-rard!' screamed Jack.
'F-o-r-rard!' screeched his lordship.
So they went flying and 'forrarding' together; none of the field--thanks to
Jack Spraggon--being able to overtake them.
'Y-o-o-nder he goes!' at last cried Frosty, taking off his cap as he viewed
the fox, some half-mile ahead, stealing away round the side of Newington
Hill.
'Tallyho!' screeched his lordship, riding with his flat hat in the air, by
way of exciting the striving field to still further exertion.
'He's a good 'un!' exclaimed Frosty, eyeing the fox's going.


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